Ollie grabs a flyer from one of them and scans it. “This looks fun. Wanna go?” he asks, a smile playing over his lips. He turns to face me. “With me, I mean.”
I stop short.
“You want to go with me to a masquerade ball.” I’m practically speechless. Ollie and I never do stuff like that. Never did. We were the ones making fun of organized social events, not attending them.
“Could be a trip, right?” Ollie shrugs. “I know this wasn’t usually our thing, this kind of supervised, generic fun-in-a-box…”
“Um, no, it isn’t. It wasn’t. When’s the last time you saw me wear a costume?”
“Never. You hate Halloween.”
“Exactly. Why would I want to…” I skim the flyer, reading about the event. “Take part in the first annual Darkwood costume ball, a chance to shed my old identity and start a new year, fresh?” I make a face. “Sounds excruciating.”
“Two tickets, then?” one of the costumed teens behind the booth asks. “It’s going to be the dance of the century.”
“The century, huh,” I mutter. Ollie kicks me in the shin. He wants me to play nice.
“The dance is totally student organized and run,” the kid continues, oblivious to my sarcasm. “Teachers will be there, but only because it’s required,” she adds as a disclaimer.
“No, thanks,” I say quickly, pulling Ollie away from the booth so we can have a moment in private. “Seriously, Ollie? Are you sure those pharmas didn’t permanently alter your prefrontal cortex?”
“Definitely not.” He laughs. “But I was on that island a really long time. Alone. All I thought about when I was there, all I dreamed about, was us. Having one normal day with you. One normal hour.”
“Normal for us is staying up all night on a Kubrick bender. Watching Full Metal Jacket and Dr. Strangelove and sprinkling M&M’s on our popcorn… Sneaking shots of vodka from your flask.”
“We can bring the flask with us to the ball.” Ollie shrugs. “The M&M’s too.”
I shoot him a dubious look.
“Fine, this dance is cheesy and so not our style. There. I said it.”
“Thank you.”
“It might not be normal for us,” he goes on. “But it’s normal for high school, isn’t it? When I had all that time on Castor Island to think about my life, about all the things I would miss if I never made it back home… This was one of them.”
“The masquerade ball was specifically on your list of things you would miss? Why do I find that hard to believe?”
Ollie rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Not this specific dance, Emma. But dances in general. School events. Doing the regular, mundane stuff that high schoolers do. Don’t say it’s dumb—”
“It’s dumb.”
“Fine.” He throws up his hands. “It’s dumb. I want us to do all the cheesy, dumb stuff. Just in case.”
Just in case. Those words rip through me like a freight truck.
“You’re back,” I say to him fiercely. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever. And neither are you. But since you insist on tugging at my heartstrings and making me feel like the worst best friend on the planet for not humoring your ridiculous bucket-list item—”
“Sorry.”
“I will go with you to this cheesy, dumb masquerade ball. On one condition.”
“Which is?” Ollie asks, his eyes dancing.
“No costume. I would rather die.”
“I will agree to those terms,” Ollie says, holding out his hand. I shake it firmly.
“Fine, then, Mr. Ward. We have a deal.”
That evening at dinner, I slide into a spot at the table between Ollie and Pru. With everything that’s happened these last few days, I feel like a rubber band that could snap at any moment.
“Look, Jake’s made some new friends,” Jago points out, interrupting my thoughts. We all turn to where he’s looking. Indeed, Jake has found a new clique to sit with since Madison has left campus, and presumably, Archer has too. I’m annoyed, but not surprised, to see that the group includes Harlowe, Ivy, and Graham. They’re talking conspiratorially among themselves.
After scarfing down my burrito, I excuse myself, complaining of a headache. It’s not far from the truth. My head might not be hurting, but it’s definitely spinning.
“Walk you back to Cypress?” Ollie asks, standing up as soon as I start to bolt from the table. “We could skip homework.” He grins wickedly. “Load up on sugar, watch every campy horror flick ever made?”
“I would love to scare myself silly right now,” I answer, bussing my tray. “But I’m in desperate need of a good night’s sleep after my daring escape from Harlowe’s car. Plus, you really can’t skip your homework. You’re still catching up from last year! Rain check?”
Ollie mutters something about me being as annoying as his mom, and I take the opportunity to rush out of there. I feel so guilty about avoiding him. But what can I do? It’s true, I do need to sleep. But I also need time alone with my thoughts. Time to process everything that’s happened since school started. Time to figure out how to be normal around Ollie. Because I worry we may never really be normal together again.
• • •
The next two weeks pass by in a blur. I still can’t get Harlowe’s voice out of my head and feel a nauseating flip in my stomach every time I think about what happened—how I read her thoughts—but I can’t dwell on what that means right now. Not a minute goes by when I’m not thinking about Levi, but I have classwork to dive into, and prepping for the Nine with Maude. We’ve all been inundated with information about college applications, which are the furthest thing from my mind, though I make a mental note to start narrowing down my list. I know what a privilege college is. I won’t squander it—I’d rather take time off than waste the opportunity. I don’t know if I’m in the right headspace for it. But I’ll try. I have to; my father would kill me if I didn’t.
“Maude,” I tell her one afternoon while we’re finishing our essays on Jane Eyre in the library. “Levi…”
“Levi what?” She puts down her tablet, looking concerned.
“I got a phone call. From Gravelle,” I say, suddenly feeling like I desperately need to share this with someone. It can’t be Ollie. He won’t understand.
“When?” she asks sharply.
“The day we came back to school,” I admit.
“And you’re only telling me this now?”
“Gravelle said Levi doesn’t want to come back here. That Darkwood was never a good fit for him.” I don’t let on how loaded this is for me, how fraught with emotion. Surely Levi hasn’t really forgotten me. Surely he doesn’t think that we weren’t a good fit. I know it doesn’t make logical sense; what we had last year was real, and he has to feel that too—right? But my heart isn’t so convinced.
“Sorry, but I don’t believe that for a second,” Maude says matter-of-factly.
I feel myself exhaling. “Me either. I mean, I don’t want to believe it, but…”
“Gravelle’s obviously keeping him there. Maybe indefinitely,” Maude adds. “I just hope he’ll let him out in time for Oxford.”
“Oxford?” I repeat. “As in, England? As in, all the way across the water? I mean, the pond?”
“Yes, I believe that’s where Great Britain is, last time I checked.” Maude sighs. “We think we could fit in there. Or at least, not stand out atrociously everywhere we go.”
“Your accents.”
She nods. “At least our voices won’t sound out of place. It’s a small thing, but it would help. Plus, England hasn’t been so focused on us, not the way they have in America.”
Maude’s referring to the daily tabloids written about her and her friends, the news shows, and the feeds that constantly speculate about the Similars’ interests, failings, and love lives. Most of it’s made up, completely fabricated by the me
dia, and I can’t blame them for wanting to distance themselves from it. But Oxford? It’s so far.
“Cloning is legal there,” she adds. “They actually support clones and welcome them across their border. Another reason to leave.”
But I’m not focused on that. All I can think about is how far away Levi’s going to be…from me. Any shred of hope I’ve been holding on to that we’ll be together after senior year, now that’s gone too. “So Levi will apply from Castor Island. Meet you there. In England.” A lump forms in the back of my throat.
“If Gravelle will let him.” Maude sighs. “Yes. That’s the plan. He’ll be eighteen by then. If he can get off the island, he won’t ever have to go back. None of us will. Of course, that’s what worries me. Will Gravelle ever let him go, knowing that he may never see him again if he does?”
The thought guts me. What if Gravelle won’t ever let Levi leave? It’s too awful to consider.
Maude goes back to her studying. I know I’m not fooling her, acting like I’m okay with this. Still, she doesn’t press me on it. I make a mental note to add the University of Oxford to my list of potential colleges. The thought of it makes me feel closer to Levi, even though I know that’s silly. He might not even be going. And though I’d never follow a boy to college…even Levi…Oxford’s one of the top universities in the world. If I could get in… It could never be a bad choice. Especially if you’re a Similar, looking for anonymity… I shake off the thought. I’m not ready to think about that. About how my cuts healed so quickly. About hearing Harlowe’s thoughts. Not now. Maybe not ever.
In the days leading up to the masquerade ball, it’s the talk of the school: who’s going with whom, who’s wearing which costumes, and who’s planning on spiking the punch with “happy pharmas.” I’m surprised when, the evening before the dance, the Similars announce they plan on going too. Maude with Jago, and the others as a group. Pru has majorly mixed feelings about it, reminding me why we’re friends in the first place, but she relents to go after I beg her to come with me and Ollie, in solidarity. The more of us who are there ironically, to laugh at the whole thing, the better.
The Friday morning of the dance, as excitement for the evening builds, our teachers have a hard time getting anyone to concentrate in class. I pass Ollie a note during chemistry that says, “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He shoots me a grin and shakes his head. Damn. I’m not off the hook.
Still, I’m sticking to my word and refusing to wear a costume, even as Ollie relentlessly teases me about how I’ll be the only one to ever attend a “ball” in jeans and a T-shirt. He wanted normal, though, didn’t he? That is normal, for me.
At dinner that night, the masquerade planning committee rushes us through the food line. They complain about the unreasonably tight schedule, moaning that an hour isn’t enough time to transform the hall from drab to fab. I have to hold back a laugh as one of the girls I recognize from the Fall Fair lashes out at a first year for moving too slowly. He’s so flustered and intimidated by her, he spills his pasta all over the floor, which causes her to flip out, becoming totally incensed. I remind Ollie this is why I hate balls, and school functions, in general. They make everyone forget how to behave.
Back in our room, Pru models two different costume choices—a sequined jumpsuit and a pleather unitard.
“I walked to town yesterday with Pippa to that thrift store, Common Threads,” she explains, striking an awkward pose that makes me laugh. These outfits are the antithesis of Pru, who lives, breathes, and sleeps in athletic clothes. “Which one says, ‘I’m wearing this costume against my will?’”
I vote for the jumpsuit but, admittedly, I’m not really paying attention.
There’s a knock at the door, and I answer it. It’s Ollie, dressed up in a cape and a bow tie, and he holds one of those masks in his hands that’s on a stick and looks vintage, but is probably a cheap reproduction. He smiles from behind it, charmingly, and I’m so happy to see him so happy that I almost forget about how annoying this dance is going to be.
“Oh, look.” I smirk as I survey his costume. “Someone time traveled here from the year Darkwood was founded.”
“At least I dressed up.”
“We had a deal,” I remind him.
“One you clearly have no intention of breaking,” he answers, looking me up and down. “You look lovely tonight, Pru.” Then, to me: “No offense.”
“Every offense taken. Let’s go.” I’m ready to fulfill this best-friend requirement so I can go back to being the nonconforming, masquerade-ball hater I was before, and still am.
Ollie laughs, holding out both of his arms. “Ladies? May I escort you to the ball, perchance?”
Pru snickers. I scowl.
“If thou must,” I relent. Ollie grins.
She has no idea how cute she is. Even in those jeans she insists on wearing all the time… Does she have to dress in a T-shirt and sneakers every day like it’s her job?
I stop in my tracks. What did Ollie say?
I turn and look at him. “You don’t like my jeans?”
Ollie studies me, confused. “No, I—What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.”
He didn’t? But I heard—
That’s when it hits me. That thing that happened with Harlowe, when I was driving the car. It’s happening again. Now. With Ollie.
She’s acting really weird. Great. Tonight everything has to be perfect, or else I’ll totally chicken out.
We’re walking down the hall, but I barely register my feet moving. I feel oddly clearheaded. And Ollie’s voice, it’s like it’s whispering right in my ear. The same way I heard Harlowe’s voice—distant-sounding, and yet, strangely close.
You have to do it. Like you planned. Tonight, at the dance. Tell her you’ve been in love with her for ages. You promised yourself when you were on that island that you would. Who cares if she kissed Levi? He isn’t here. I don’t want him to be stuck there, that’s not it. But I’ve known Emma longer and I’ve loved her forever. I just never realized it until last year, and then I almost missed my chance—
I press my hands to my ears, trying to drown out Ollie’s inner monologue. As though that would ever work. Whatever’s happening to me, I can’t stop it. Unless I get the hell out of here.
“Emma?” Pru looks at me, her face etched with worry. I probably look like I’m losing it, standing here with my hands on either side of my head.
I have to go. There’s no way I can stand here and listen to this, to Ollie thinking all about his feelings for me, without him knowing I’m reading his every thought.
I start to go, not bothering to give an excuse. The only thing I manage to say before I dash out of there is that I’ll see them both later at the ball.
All I can think as I race out the door of Cypress into the crisp Darkwood night is that Ollie’s in love with me. And he plans to tell me, tonight.
The Originals
I tear out of there so fast, I don’t even hear what Ollie and Pru yell back to me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
I run down a well-lit path, past kids fully embracing the cosplay spirit of the evening. Some are dressed in superhero costumes, some like their favorite book and TV characters. Every single person has a mask. When I hurry past the Similars, I give them a half-hearted wave, promising to see them tonight. I only vaguely register that they’re all dressed in some kind of thematic costume, but I don’t get the reference.
I’m gunning it out of there, feeling an adrenaline rush—or is it fear overtaking me? The simple act of hearing Ollie’s thoughts like that made me feel like I was on a high. Like the world was crisp and clearer than it ever had been before. And yet…it was terrifying.
What the hell was that? Gravelle playing a game with me? But how? Harlowe’s words were spot-on. My friends were at the pump house, like she said. And Ollie’s
voice sounded so authentic, like it was really him talking… But what he said, about being in love with me, about telling me, tonight…
It’s not the first time I’ve heard this from him. It’s why we stopped talking in our second year, why he never confided in me about wanting to visit Seymour and find out about his father. Because he’d told me how he felt about me. And I’d shut him down. And for a couple of weeks before he traveled to Boston to see his uncle, we were barely speaking to each other.
I haven’t thought about that in ages. Haven’t let myself. Because I feel the same way now as I did then. Ollie can’t be in love with me, because it would ruin everything. Even if he thinks he is… We’re “us.” Emma and Oliver. Best friends, not more. And now, with Levi in the picture… It was probably seeing that photo that got Ollie thinking that way again. After all, he never said anything all summer, never acted like anything but a friend. I guess a part of me hoped he’d realized we would never be like that. That he’d come to his senses. He can’t love me love me. That would never work. And I don’t feel that way about him. How could I possibly, after what Levi and I shared last year?
But it doesn’t really matter what his reasons are, does it? Or if he’s lying to himself. Or if I’m the one in denial. Either way—if he tells me tonight about these feelings, what am I going to do?
I’m so lost in my thoughts, I only now realize that I’ve ventured far past the main house and the chapel, all the way to the ornate gate with the Darkwood crest on it that signals the start of campus. I unlock the gate and let the embellished metal door swing closed behind me with a clang. Out of breath, I pause under a knot of trees, my hands on my thighs, breathing in the crisp Vermont air. When I stand up, ready to continue outrunning the tangled web of my thoughts, someone blocks me on the path. It’s Tessa Leroy. Next to her is Ansel’s original: the famous, and famously handsome, Archer de Leon.
The Pretenders Page 6
